


Tokens of Affection

by clockworkrobots



Series: How To Repel Ghosts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crack, Episode Tag, Fluff, M/M, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkrobots/pseuds/clockworkrobots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The missing scene from 10.20 where Dean and Cas go to Hot Topic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tokens of Affection

Dean supposes that in hindsight he really shouldn't complain about their little shopping trip, as he _was_ the one who suggested Hot Topic in the first place.

Though, in fairness, he _did_ mean it as a joke.

Sort of. Whatever.

Anyway, just because he dug this hole himself doesn't mean Dean isn't going to complain about it as they walk through the too-tight aisles of the too-crowded teen store. He's just in the middle of complaining about how half the internet meme products in the store don't even _make sense,_ in fact,when he's stopped dead in his tracks by something a million miles more horrific than a _Grumpy Cat_ plush.

“What the hell is this?” Dean balks, grabbing an item off the rack more viciously than he probably should before paying for it.

> [x](http://www.hottopic.com/hottopic/Supernatural+Castiel+Wings+Heart+Locket+Necklace-10258328.jsp)

Cas comes up behind him. “It looks like a locket,” he comments a little unhelpfully, because yeah, Dean can very well _see_ that it's a locket.

“It's—it's a _Supernatural_ necklace,” Dean whispers harshly, lowering his voice so that he's not overheard, but unable to keep the shock and vehemence out of his voice. He glances around at the section, and the whole shelf is _littered_ with _Supernatural_ themed tack.

“I guess the gospels became more popular than Chuck thought,” Cas muses, _so_ fucking unhelpfully, because can he not see the existential crisis Dean is going through here? There could be teenage girls walking around this mall with _his face_ on their t-shirt. (Well, an artist's terrible rendering of his face based on Chuck's descriptions, which Dean thinks is probably even worse.)

“Oh, you got no idea,” Dean mumbles to himself and shakes his head, thinking back to their case at that high school and their musical. Dean turns over the locket package in his hand to read the back, where the package displays pictures of the winged heart's interior.

“Is that supposed to be... me?” Cas frowns over Dean's shoulder.

“Yeah, I—I think so,” Dean stammers, still too fucking overwhelmed. “Jesus, what kind of shit do they sell people, nowadays?” he wonders aloud. Maybe _too_ loudly, for a young store clerk an aisle away glares at him as they walk past.

“I don't think Claire would much care for _Supernatural_ themed jewellery,” Cas tells Dean, picking the locket package out of Dean's hand to presumably place back on the rack.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Dean scoffs as he moves onward through the store, failing to notice how Cas does not, in fact, put the locket back where he found it, but instead palms it carefully up his sleeve for covert purchase.

 

***

 

When Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot, he goes through the regular motions of putting the car in park and taking the keys out, and goes to open the door before he realises Cas hasn't yet budged.

“You good?” he asks Cas, realising that he had been quiet on the drive back form the mall. Not that Cas is usually that chatty, but it hadn't been the kind of comfortable silence he's used to being able to enjoy with Cas. It was tense, and dare he say it, _awkward_. He knows they still have _tonnes_ of shit left to talk through even after they've spilled their guts to each other, but Dean had felt _good_ about it all, still. Which was a fucking miracle.

Cas hesitates, before reaching down into the gift bag he bought for Claire at the _Hallmark_ across the hall. He pulls out a small, plainly but carefully wrapped package.

“I also got this,” Cas offers, holding the package out to Dean. “For you.”

It takes Dean a second to shake off his surprise, but when he does he smiles gently, and takes it to unwrap in his lap. “Uh, thanks, Cas—” he begins, but then stops when the paper falls away from the gift. “Holy shit, the _locket?_ ” he exclaims, holding up the familiar plastic package from the mall just hours earlier.

Beside him, Castiel shifts in his seat, coats rustling with him. “I know the _Supernatural_ merchandise unnerved you, but...” he shrugs. “Call me sentimental, but it did remind me of you.”

Dean breathes out through his nose as he tries to rip the package open with his teeth. He struggles for a moment, but eventually manages to make a good, solid tear that fractures the whole thing, and he's able to slide the locket on its chain into his open palm.

He tells himself he's just humouring Cas by opening it, but really, he _is_ touched. They maybe haven't really talked about what they are to each other yet, but they know they are _something_ , and Dean's a closet sap, among other things. So sue him, he blushes when his boyfriend buys him a present.

He turns the locket over to read the inscription on the back. ' _I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition'_. “Yeah, good times,” Dean huffs out sarcastically, more to himself than anything, but Cas, of course, hears him.

“I thought you could keep it to remind you that there are hopefully better ones ahead,” he says. Dean turns to him, face newly flushed again, and sees that Cas is smiling.

“Cas—”

“It's silly, I know,” his friend says quickly, gaze falling into his own lap, hands idly fiddling with the string handle of Claire's birthday bag.

“No it's—” Dean starts, but then looks down at it, and chuckles. “Well, yeah, it kinda is. But in a very... _you_ way.”

“Oh?”

“Kinda goofy,” Dean admits.

Cas ducks his head again to chuckle in turn. “Claire called me a 'doof', once,” he says wistfully, after a moment. He glances out the car window to peer out at the faint light from their motel room, where Claire and Sam await. His face falls into a gentle frown, as he contemplates, Dean guesses, the tenuous truce of his and Claire's relationship.

“Trust me,” Dean says, placing a comforting hand on Cas' knee. “That's a good thing, too.” He can't promise Cas that Claire will forgive him for everything. She doesn't have to, and Dean respects that. So does Cas, he knows, but he also knows it's goddamned _hard_ on him. He squeezes Cas' knee before removing his hand.

“Is it?” Cas asks carefully, an anxious pull to his voice. “Good?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean affirms. “It means you care.”

Dean reaches for the door handle again, feeling restless again as the Mark simmers on his forearm, but he stops himself a second time when he feels another tide of _feelings_ welling up in his throat.

“You know I, uh,” Dean lets his hands fall from the door. “I'm having a hard timing caring about much anymore. It's the Mark, it—” Dean rubs his arm as the Mark screeches at him beneath the fabric. “Mutes things, I don't know.”

They've talk about this before, but it's getting _worse_ now by the day, and Dean really doesn't know how long he's got before he doesn't even have the concern or care to say any of this. To give a damn.

“I don't feel like myself half of the time anymore," he admits quietly, and then laughs hollowly. “But I guess you already knew that.”

“Dean,” Cas says, in that way of his where he makes his name sound like the most precious word in the world. Maybe to Cas it is. For Dean's part, he knows his heart stutters every time he hears it, know he leans in unconsciously to the sound, soaking it up.

“So, ah,” he stumbles back to himself, “I guess that's to say it's good having you around, to remind me of that. That there are things I still care about.” He looks at Cas, eyes full of meaning. “That, uh, care about me.”

Dean blinks and there's a warm hand on his face, coming home to him as if it never left.

“I care for you...” Cas whispers, voice hoarse and worn from the days trials but nonetheless sincere, “beyond all rational thought.”

Dean sucks in a rattled breath, and shoots a hand up to grip Cas' shoulder, fist bunching the fabric of his coat up. “You shouldn't,” he grits out, unable to contain his self-hate.

Eyes still closed, Dean then feels a close breath against his lips, before Cas places there a brief, chaste kiss. Dean sucks in a desperate breath.

“I think there would be several cards in that Hallmark store we went to that would like to contradict you,” he says, and Dean cracks open his eyes. “ _'Love is not rational'._ ”

Dean's hand at Cas' shoulders relaxes, releasing the mound of coat he'd been holding hostage. He's loathe to move his hand completely, though; Cas' body is too warm, too sturdy to part with yet.

“Except when it is,” Cas adds after a moment. “Except when the most unfathomable, unthinkable, nonsensical thing would be not to love.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. “To not love you.”

It's too dark to see, but Dean blushes. So of course out loud, he jokes, “So you admit it's a dumb ass move.”

“Maybe,” Cas nods his head, playing evenly. “But then didn't you say we were a couple of dumb asses, once, right?”

“Jesus,” Dean chuckles hoarsely. He glances past Cas to the motel still waiting for their return. “All right. We should probably head in.”

Before he gets out this time, though, it's Cas that stops him, with a hand on his own shoulder. “Thank you for this, Dean,” he says earnestly. “For all your and Sam's help today.”

“Of course, Cas,” Dean tells him. “Anything for family.”

 

 ***

 

Dean, of course, keeps the locket.

 


End file.
